Whispers in Time
by TALEWG
Summary: Several short vignettes of couples I adore (or in the case of two of them, simply found convenient at the time). One of them is rather unconventional...So enjoy! There is something for everyone!
1. Tom

Whispers in Time  
  
By: Melanie  
  
The Annoying Little Evil Writer Girl  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, not paid, not sane.  
  
Summary: Several short vignettes of couples I adore (or in the case of two of them, simply found convenient at the time). Came up with the idea while screwing around with PowerPoint; I used the phrases on each slide that appear in the first three vignettes I wrote, which are now in a different order. After that, I just kept going.  
  
Notes: These are in timeline order. I also tried v. hard to keep everyone in character.  
  
Since FF.net is bullshit:  
  
/This/ is Italics  
  
*This* is bold.  
  
Underline can go to hell!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Always trust your heart." "Even if you cannot bear to act on it?" "Especially then."  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
One:  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
When she came in that day, I knew things were wrong. I also knew not to ask. But what I /knew/ was never in my way. The heart comes first. That was the last thing my mother ever taught me. Left that little bit scribed in a gold ring, she did. I always wear that ring now.  
  
But Minerva was not my mother. *She* did not believe in the "heart first" idea, she believed in common sense. I hate common sense; I did then and I do now, although now I at least know how to use it.  
  
It was my sixth year and her seventh on this particular day. I was reading in the library that day, although I can't remember what. But when she came in, looking miserable and worn, I shut down everything. My books were in my bag and I had stood by the time she reached my table. I didn't even let her sit; I just turned her right around with my arm and led her back to my dorm room.  
  
Ah, those were the days, when the Prefects had their own rooms. She had never minded my room; it was quite warm for the dungeons. Sometimes she would not let me get her to my bed, but opted for my chair instead. She had always been careful about intimacy. Sex was not a part of our relationship. No ifs, ands, or buts. I didn't mind; slowly I was changing that without her knowing it.  
  
Today she led /me/ there, led me there in a rush. She grabbed my bag and took it from my shoulder, pushing me onto the bed within the next instance. While she had always been passionate, Minerva had never been lustful. But that night was different, that night she took control.  
  
I should have realized that there would be a catch. I realized it far too late. That night was about her, us, and love. She discarded her glasses, her hair tie, her robes and mine alike within the moments her lips were on mine. That night was the end of so many things, too many things. I wonder sometimes, if I hadn't been so jealous, so selfish, if only I had refused her advances, would I still have her? But I don't dwell on it very long very often, because I know I couldn't have resisted her then, no matter what. And she knew it.  
  
When I lay with her that night, we were just two lovers, no longer innocent, no longer virgin. I could not have found a better day in my life; actually, I still haven't. And she told me that she loved me. She said it over and over and over.  
  
But the next morning, the next morning she was gone. I expected it, but a foreboding ate at me. When I saw her at lunch, she pulled me aside. "I have to talk to you." I knew it right away; she was going to say something I wouldn't like. "That thing you always say, about your heart, it doesn't work; I tried it already."  
  
"Always trust your heart." I repeated it, but she wasn't going to listen and I knew it.  
  
"Even if you cannot bear to act on it?" she practically pleaded for me to go against my belief. The sorrow laced in her eyes that day broke what had remained of my heart.  
  
I hesitated, I wasn't sure if should answer her. But how could I resist her? I loved her so much. "Especially then." But I had a feeling that I should have kept my mouth shut. My heart. My heart told me otherwise, and I always trusted my heart.  
  
"You have my heart; I cannot trust it any longer. Forgive me."  
  
"What are you saying, Minerva?" I had a good idea what she was saying, but I had to hear her say it, if she couldn't, then I had a chance.  
  
She raised her gaze to mine and sighed. As she smiled wistfully, she uttered the words that would destroy my last hopes; "It's over, Tom. I can't see you anymore." And then she walked away. She had the *nerve* to walk away from *me!* Me! Someday she would see her mistake, I had been sure of it.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
She looks beautiful now, all these years later, standing defiantly in front of me. I wouldn't want it any other way. That old fool Dumbledore will not notice her absence for sometime yet, and I have time enough to change her mind.  
  
But when was I really *that* naïve? The look she gives me shows me that I still can be, even now. Even after hundreds of thousands of murders and over a decade of fear, she can make me realize that Tom still exists. And I hate her for that. Damn you, Minerva, damn you.  
  
She crosses her arms in her stubbornness. "I'll fight my way out of here Tom, I'll die before I join you." I am a little shocked that she called me Tom, though I know I shouldn't have been.  
  
"I am not Tom anymore. You killed Tom." She looks as if she had been bitten, although she recovers soon enough.  
  
"Fine. Then I wont have any qualms about killing you here and now," she is set like stone, but deep down, I know she doesn't want to do it. I just smile. I'm sure she does not see Tom in my face now. This twisted form I have must disgust her. But I still love her. Tom still loves her.  
  
She aims her wand at my head and waits. I walk towards her, and yet she does not cast any spell. "Why did you leave me, Minerva?" I growl. It is the question that has haunted me for years now.  
  
"I knew what you were. /This/." It is said with disgust and hatred, almost as though I had left a permanent stench on her. And perhaps I did; hers certainly stayed on me. Her damn love is still on me today.  
  
I am tired of playing gracious host for someone who treats me with such dislike. I reach forward to her and grab her wand hand, snapping the wand in half. Her face shows horror at me. I have noticed I have a touch like ice. I lean in to her, still holding her left wrist. "Good-bye, Minerva." And I throw her backwards into the portal from which I brought her. She will be back in her chambers within the minute. And she will always remember that she had a chance to kill me. But that damned thing called love got in the way. Which means I'm right.  
  
Love is useless. And only fools fall in love.  
  
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Reviews are very much appreciated, I already have several of the chapters done, so they will be posted faster than I usually do. Thank you to Flame Tigress, my gorgeous Beta-Reader. Read her shit. It is very good. 


	2. Percy

Disc. Not mine  
  
Review or something, it's nice to get them. SLASH  
  
"You are everything I am not; you have everything I want." "Well, you have me, so now it is yours."  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Two:  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
I'm going to hate you forever, Oliver Wood. Forever. You sit there, without feeling it at all. I want to kiss you, Oliver, ravish you. And you sit there, unnoticing. If I could kill you I would, if only to end my countless years, days, hours, minutes of agony at the thought of you. I would never harm you, I know this, but it's nice in theory. Then again, without you I would still be trying to decide whether or not I really was into men. I have a lot to thank you for, Oliver, and I hate you for that. And I always will.  
  
"Percy, you're doing that thing again." The simple sound of your voice throws me out of my own hatred over something I cannot have. I am pathetic.  
  
"Doing what exactly, Oliver?" I know what I'm doing; we both know very well.  
  
"Over-thinking, and you know it." You're irritable now. You hate repeating things, especially when we both know them to be true.  
  
"Am I not allowed to think now, Oliver? Do I have to forget to do so as you do?" That was a low shot and we both know it. I hate it when you do that, that face. That emotion. I hate emotions, for the simple reason that mine are ridiculed. And yours, yours are honored. I hate you for that. And there you are, looking disappointed in me - me! How dare you make me care that you aren't happy. But I do care. I care about you, the way you feel, and whether or not you smile. Please smile. For the love of whatever God you told me believed in, smile. I hate this agony you cause me. But I don't hate you. Could never hate you. And I hate you for that as well.  
  
You ignore me now. Go back to your precious stratagems, Oliver. That game is too much to you. You will not sleep tonight, I know. You don't sleep before matches; oh yes, you try, but you still never sleep. Most times you simply go into the common room at two when I choose to retire, so as to leave me to sleep.  
  
I look at the clock. One in the morning. So early? I am already tired now. Tired of looking at you. For a while I thought you had liked me, flirted even. But after a while I realized I was either imagining it or it stopped happening. But that would mean that it had actually happened in the first place. And I don't really believe either possibility.  
  
I can see you yawn; you are so tired. You will crash directly after the match; most days my brothers carry you up here from the common room. But today, you yawn again. You never yawn twice before two in the morning. Never.  
  
I feel slightly maternal when I walk over to you and take the book from your grasp. You begin to question my motives, but I soon quiet you with my reasons. I pull you to your feet and shove you onto your bed. "Percy, I won't fall asleep, you know," you protest.  
  
"I know, Oliver, you never do. But you will tonight or you'll faint from exhaustion as soon as the snitch is caught." You scowl at me; you hate to admit it, but I'm right.  
  
"How so?" I don't even bother to answer as I climb into your bed after discarding my shirt. You are rigid for a moment and I start to regret this. But as soon as I turn the lights out, you relax. You try, I'll grant you, you really do. But at four I feel you stir, and I wake from the movement.  
  
"Sorry, Percy, you tried." And now you are disappointed in yourself. I hate that. You haven't got a reason to be. You were always everything I wanted, wanted to be, wanted to have.  
  
"I want to be you, Oliver." I am probably more startled than you at the realization that I had said it out loud.  
  
"Why, Percy? What for?"  
  
You're doing that insecure thing again. I hate that. "I envy you, Oliver." You sit up slightly and I turn to you. I can feel you on my skin. And you feel it too, I know. We fit together perfectly. It's kind of funny, that as I am the one who is so in love with you, that you should be the one to make the first move. I swear I will remember this kiss for the rest of my life. You taste like mint and cinnamon, but I can't be sure why.  
  
Whenever a decision arises, I have always weighed the possibilities of the situation and chosen the track that I would best be able to control myself on. This time, however, I think I will pick the other path. After all, I'm a little tired of being in control. With this realization, I kiss you again. And again, and again, and again.  
  
The tenth time I kiss you, you yawn half way through it. I can't help but laugh. This is all I ever wanted. "You are everything I am not; you have everything I want." You look at me really hard when I say this. I'm not sure where it came from, somewhere deep inside me. Even more surprising than what I said is what you respond with.  
  
"Well, you have me, so now it is yours."  
  
I could cry, I really could. But I don't. Instead, I settle for holding you. In a mere half an hour, you are asleep, for the first time before a match, you sleep. Because of me.  
  
And I could never hate you for that.  
  
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	3. Draco

Sorry this took so long; I forgot I hadn't updated. Enjoy. SLASH.  
  
~*~  
  
"We are like frost and fire, purity and corruption, love and lightning."  
  
Three:  
  
"Shhh! Someone's coming," you whisper to me.  
  
"Well yes, eventually." I can't help it; I know how much you hate my crude humor. And I love to see you as sarcastic as you are now.  
  
"I mean towards the room, you idiot! Don't be stupid."  
  
I can't help it. I pout, "I thought you liked me stupid," I paused, "and quiet." If I do remember, you said it was easier when I just let you do what you want with me."  
  
"Yes, but not nearly as fun."  
  
There it was again, the Harry that only I get to see. I revel in this. This is all mine, no one else's. Not Weasley's or Granger's or anyone's, just mine. You tell me that I get possessive sometimes, that I almost give our secret away sometimes. I don't care. Mine.  
  
We were never meant to be together. Never ever.ever. But what the hell did fate know? We were always too different. But as the saying goes, opposites attract. Now, I may not understand most Muggle theories, but I did spend a summer in Muggle high school when I was fourteen. Took those damned science classes. My aunt said they would come in handy, but I knew she just wanted me out of her house. Positive charges attract negative charges, but repel other positives.  
  
You are the positive one, of course. And I - I was too negative for anyone else to deal with. But then you were always special, weren't you? We are like fire and frost, purity and corruption, love and lightning.  
  
The whole thing made too much sense, except for the last thing. When my English teacher explained it, it made more sense, but I can't remember exactly what she said.  
  
Something about love being like an all-consuming peace, while lust was like lightning - it was brief, fast, dangerous, and always unexpected. She had named a profound man who she said had uttered the words, but I have a feeling she made it up on the spot because she had no lesson plan.  
  
Whatever the reason, I do believe that the quote was made for us. I told you this once and you laughed. You had said that I was going against my previous statement of fate hating our love, and I had to pick one before you would attempt to humor me. So I went back to the first - that fate never meant us to be together. But I still live by the second when you are not looking.  
  
And as you throw your invisibility cloak over us seconds before Filch makes his rounds, I have to smile. The man looks in the room for all of seven seconds, and when he is gone, you have already pressed your lips to mine.  
  
I love you like this. I love you, as only I know you. Fate has always hated me. But maybe, just maybe, it was beginning to feel sorry for me because of the family I was forced to have. Nothing worthwhile for a Malfoy my father made sure of that. And yet, I finally got mine. In the good way. I got you.  
  
And when I kiss you, there is no Harry and there is no Draco, there is nothing, just love. And I am really beginning to think that lust is overrated.  
  
Besides, I never really liked lightning in the first place.  
  
~fini~  
  
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	4. Seamus

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Do you want to play a game of soccer?" "I don't know the rules.Can I make them up?" "What did you have in mind?"  
  
Four:  
  
The term was over. I don't think anyone-including myself-had anything else on their minds. Well, I guess that isn't really true. Dean is sitting on his bed yelling at a letter from his mum, because she told him that his favorite soccer team had lost its four best players and were now lagging in the league. He gets touchy about his stupid Muggle sport. I told him this once, and he threw my Quidditch book out the window.  
  
I decided I was tired of this dull silence sometime before the last class ended. It was now an hour past dinner, and I was still bored. I was ready for anything exciting by now; I was being stupid, I knew, but I threw my pillow at Dean. I received a nasty stare from him. "What do you want?" he asked me. I'm sure that had I been any closer he would have killed me with the venom in his voice.  
  
"I'm bored, Dean." I whined. He gave me one of those looks asking just why he should care whether or not I was bored. My lips curled up slightly at the idea. Dean was my best friend; there was no way he didn't care about me. I was sure of it.  
  
"So what do you want to do?" he asked me calmly; I figured he'd be angry with me, but I suppose he wanted a distraction from his terrible news. I actually hadn't thought that far. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do at all. He guessed as much because he quickly pulled on his sneakers that he wore during the breaks at school. He stood up and smiled at me widely, "Do you want to play a game of soccer?"  
  
I looked at him in amazement as he enlarged a rubber soccer key chain that was hanging on his bedpost. Did he seriously think I knew soccer? "I don't know the rules." but then a thought occurred to me, "Can I make them up?"  
  
He gave me a weird look I couldn't read. "What did you have in mind?"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I ran at Dean, kicking the ball just the way he had explained it. He was standing in front of his goal ready for me to kick the ball past him. But he must have forgotten that I made up the rules and we were not playing his Muggle sport anymore. I got close to the goal and kicked the ball blindly towards the goal. He saw the sloppy shot and turned to stop it, but I wasn't about to let that happen. I jumped at him and tripped him so he would fall on the ground. Problem is, Dean isn't to fond of being one upped, so I shouldn't have been surprised that he grabbed my arm on his way down.  
  
We hit the ground hard; actually, I should say that he hit the ground hard. I fell on top of him and barely felt a thing. I couldn't help but laugh at him, his hair was utterly messed and he had dirt on his face. We had been outside for a good hour and curfew was in less than half of this one. But even in the darkness of a cloudy night, I was sure I saw a movement in the distance. I looked more directly in the direction I thought the movement had come from.  
  
I didn't see anything there, so I looked back at Dean. He shifted a little to move his hand. I realized I was quite on top of him still and blushed. I moved off him and helped him up with a hand. When he got up fully I brushed the dirt off his face. A moment of awkward silence stretched between us. I went to let go of his hand to get the ball but he pulled me back. "Seamus, I-I had a lot of fun tonight. Just so you know."  
  
I smiled at him. "So did I." Somewhere in the pit of my stomach I felt warm as he dropped my hand to get the ball. I knew something was different now. And that thought didn't bother me in the least.  
  
~fini~ 


End file.
